


In His Mother's Eyes

by Winchestifer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean handling Mary's Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchestifer/pseuds/Winchestifer
Summary: Dean isn't taking the death of his mother easily.(I had to get some angst out, and this was the result. Hope you enjoy!)





	In His Mother's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my brain's interpretation as to how Dean deals with his mother's death at the end of Season 14 ep 18

Dean set the glass on the library table, empty from the whiskey he’d downed. He was pleasantly drunk, but the anger in him grew with each sip. The memories, all the memories of his mother washed before his eyes. So many happy memories when he was little, trumped by the memories of her as he was an adult. Getting wrapped up with British Men of Letters, running off with Bobby to get away from the life. Oh, how all he ever wanted to do was just run away. But there were some good memories, too. Pie, his mother made the best pie. She made amazing food, too. All those nights she cooked in the bunker. The memory of her face the night he met her out at that cabin to build the Ma’lak box. 

He stood from his chair, swaying a moment before his arm swept out in front of him and he knocked the lamp off the table. He grabbed a couple of books and threw them across the room. The empty whiskey decanter was picked up and thrown against the wall. He glanced down at the table and saw his mother’s initials carved into the table. Two swift hands slipped underneath the edge of the table and it was flipped over. 

“FUCK!” Dean yelled as he slipped his hands up into his hair, tugging at both sides. He had fucked things over with Castiel, as well. 

_ You’re dead to me.  _

He was falling to pieces, and he didn’t know what to do. Jack had killed his mother, and he knew the moment he saw his face he was going to try and kill him. It was inevitable. The kid hadn’t meant to do it, but it was done, and that’s all Dean needed to know. Her body, an empty shell according to Rowena. She was happy in heaven with their father according to Castiel. Was she really? How could he trust the angel’s word alone? How could he trust  _ anyone _ but Sam? 

He glanced around the room, his red rimmed eyes lined with tears as he turned to walk out of the room and down to his bedroom. As he entered, images of his mother laid out across the bed met him, and he sniffled with a sob. He fell onto the bed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. There were no answers there, just like there weren’t any in the amber liquid he inhaled like water. 

He felt like a four year old all over again. That fresh pain of seeing the house burn down to the ground, knowing his mother was inside and unable to get out. This time, his mother was cremated before she even knew what happened. Maybe he was right all those years ago…

_ What’s dead should stay dead. _


End file.
